My feed today has just been a series of posts thirsting over boys and, honestly ?
Godspeed, you merry gentlemen
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Hear me out. Jason Grace would NOT understand meme culture or gen z jokes. Like. At all. This man is a dorky dad in a child's body.
Jason would just do a cool backflip or sumn and Piper would go "oh my gosh slayyy" and he'd get all serious and alert, draws his gladius and goes "Where's the monster I need to slay Piper? Where is it????"
Leo would call him a pookie bear, and Jason would be like "??? Frank's the bear" and "What is a pookie, it is a very peculiar sounding word" with the most adorable clueless puppy face ever.
Piper and Leo would be in TEARS.
Bc. Jason grace, the Son of Jupiter. Child of rome. Toppler of the black throne. Praetor of the twelfth legion. Slayer of krios. The golden celebrity of camp jupiter. Cold intimidating feral boy who most ppl even fear standing next to. Doesn't know what a pookie bear is.
Also, Jason would HATE HATE HATE the "womp womp" jokes (which Leo makes ALOT lmao) it's legit like the Bane of his existence.
Bc he doesn't get it? Like when Annabeth gives them all a very serious Architectural nerdy explanation about the exteriors of the new rome shrines, Leo would just go "womp womp" like so out of the blue.
Annabeth would be fucking furious, and Jason would be like super annoyed aswell bc. dude. What was the point of interrupting such a great nerdy yapping session, like, I was enjoying that. You killed the vibe.
(We all know it's canon that Jason and annabeth love yapping and geeking out in cursive together, so they BOTH hate the womp womp jokes with a burning passion BC IM TRYNA TALK HERE)
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if Zoro asked Luffy 'would you still love me if I was a worm?' Luffy would be vibrating out of his skin with excitement detailing how he would take care of Zoro and build him a special little enclosure and make him little swords out of sticks so he can still achieve his dream of being the world's greatest swordsworm and feed him worm sized portions of meat and booze everyday and carry him around everywhere so they can still do everything together.
he also delightfully rambles about how he could be a worm also and they'd go on worm adventures together and make friends with all sorts of other bugs and how much fun they'd have.
edit: there's fanart for this scenario now! show it lots of love it's absolutely adorable!!!
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i haven't drawn any kieflo stuff in awhile so here's so doodles inspired by me realizing how long florian's hair would be when it isn't styled into the chunky twists i usually draw him with.
[ transcription for the comics below the cut bc my handwriting can be hard to read rip ] ⤵
PART 01
FLORIAN : Oh, Kieran! You're already here?
FLORIAN : Sorry, I guess I should've mentioned it was a wash day. It's gonna take me a little longer to get ready. ( You can wait in my room if you want. )
KIERAN : Dazokie... ( W-Wowzers. )
FLORIAN : Huh?
PART 02
FLORIAN : I've still got a few things to do with my hair, but you can sit wherever or have a look around if you like!
KIERAN : T-thanks. ( Pardon the intrusion. )
KIERAN, thinking : Ugh, I really hope he didn't notice how red my face is.
Florian walks into the bathroom's door frame with a loud WHAM!
KIERAN, thinking : Actually, I think I'm in the clear... ( Guess he isn't wearing his contacts. )
KIERAN : You okay?
FLORIAN, off-screen : Y-yeah...
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Toying around with a sort of Apex Polarity spin involving Sun and Moon and having them as Arctic Fox type of creatures (think werewolf monster body types but fox style) and Y/N is an Arctic Hare-esque humanoid mythical being with white fur and long ears tipped in black. Of course, it's set in the Arctic tundra. Thinking of calling it Of Fox Maws.
You've seen the fox men before. They'll skirt the outsides of the large valley you like to go to gather arctic willow and sedge out of the snow. Their eyes glint in the harsh Arctic light, watching you. You warily tense your legs, always ready to bolt should the two fiends decide they're hungry enough to attempt to chase you down.
You can't trust foxes.
But you always skip away, out of sight and far from the terror of what could easily be your last day. This happens for a season. Sometimes, they attempt to creep closer in plain view but you turn tail and run, ducking behind snowy hills and hiding low until you're certain they're gone.
Once, you were caught off guard in the middle of your foraging. One voice called softly out to you. You jumped back and found the fox men too close, almost within lunging distance—your little heart fluttered as if to take flight and escape—but you ran and ran and ran until you couldn't breathe. Then, you look behind you.
The fox men were nowhere to be found.
One day, you're amid a rocky field of purple saxifrage, happily picking blossoms to toss in your mouth while twisting your long ears this way and that to listen in for any predators or creeping fox men that might try to break your little neck in their vulpine jaws. You never expected the teeth to come from the ground you placed your foot on. A snap of metal. A bone crack. You're bitten by something cold and terrible, and it chains you to the ground. Terrible pain eats your leg as blood, crimson among the snow and rocks, begins to drip down your fur.
You panic. Such is your nature. You thrash and struggle while the metal trap digs deeper into your leg. The safety of daylight begins to fade as exhaustion and fear begin to take hold, and then you see them. Their glinting eyes, their sharp ears narrowed, their fur white and strangely marked with colorful swirls on their underside, their claws scraping over the ground as they come closer and closer.
You cry it in your terror—you could always run before. They talk low and soft to you, one anxiously coaxing you to stop moving, to stop hurting yourself, but you tug and struggle in your wild franticness. The teeth keep biting your leg—you flounder before a set of arms catches you, pinning you down with strange gold and red fur on his chest that warms your deathly chilled body. You scream but another set of hands holds down your caught leg—this one with deep blue and silver swirls in the fur on his chest. You dissolve in the horror of the end that will come from too many jaws—
A musical steel note plays when he breaks the chain in half with his raw strength. You keep thrashing, struggling to get away, but the fox men are too strong, and the one holding you keeps asking you to stop being frightened—they only want to help. The other digs his dark claws into the metal trap and pries it apart as the other drags you out of reach of the contraption maw, and you cry from the pain of it all.
The two begin yipping and fussing. When they press their hands to the bleeding bite mark on your leg, the anguish overwhelms you until all you see is white, then nothing.
They become frantic at your slumped form and all the blood on your silky white fur. Sun takes to your wound and Moon takes you in his arms, and keeping pressure on the strange bite, they carry you back to their den. There, you'll be safe and warm, and there, they can help you with your broken leg.
Hopefully, you won't keep screaming when you wake up. (You will.)
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